Lost and Found
by XxReddShadowxX
Summary: Who knew that a slobbering canine and a bit of rain was all that it took for the two of them to find one another? This was one school year that freckled-Jesus and Horseface were bound to never forget. JeanMarco/Jean x Marco/College AU/[T]/Rating May Change/Romance/Friendship/(Yaoi)/MxM/BL
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is a JeanMarco AU, which will have mention of other SnK characters but most likely will not have much elaboration on Jean or Marco's relations with them. Marco is eighteen, and Jean is nineteen, and as it states later on, Jean is both taller than and a grade higher than Marco in this instance. They both go to the same college.**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own any of the characters from SnK, this is purely _fan-made fiction._**

* * *

"Polo! Polo!"

An exhausted yell could be heard from the across the entire neighborhood, following a tall, tanned boy running down the street corner. He'd been chasing that Labrador for what seemed to have been hours now.

"Polo!" He shouted again, "Come on, come 'ere, boy!"

He slowed to a stop, bending over and resting his hands on his knees. He'd been walking this dog for an elderly woman in the neighborhood near where he'd just moved. Well, not exactly moved, more like where he'd been assigned, after graduating high school. The college he'd been going to as of now was small, with not many over five hundred students, but it was decent. He'd only moved into a small apartment about a month ago, and had decided to do some jobs around nearby areas before finding a solid side-job. Though he had been assigned a roommate already, as the apartment complex was used for some of the off-campus dorm areas, they hadn't arrived yet. He wondered who it'd be, if they came at all.

"Where'd you go?" Releasing a sigh of defeat, he adjusted his t-shirt and shivered.

He'd expected to be back by at least four, but before he knew it, six o'clock had already passed and the sun had long since set. The rain had begun about ten minutes ago, falling quickly into a deep deluge of water. The boy was entirely drenched, his grey sneakers and cargo shorts soaking up the frigid, icy water. The temperature had also decreased drastically, and he could feel his nose reddening.

However, that seemed have been the least of his problems at the moment. Though it was quickly becoming darker and colder, with all the chasing he'd been doing, he was completely and utterly lost. He sat down on the curb, rubbing his arms with his clammy palms. Not only was he lost, but he wasn't able to find the dog yet either.

Picturing the disappointed face of the owner, the old woman, his frowned deepened. He didn't like to make people lose their trust in him, but much more than that, he didn't like to make people sad.

Suddenly, he tensed, hearing the choked up motor of what sounded like a truck. Surely enough, a slightly rusted, faded silver pick-up slowed near the curb in which he sat. The boy prepared himself to run, slowly rising from his knees while watching the car warily.

The door opened from the driver's side, headlights still shining and wipers still on. A man, with what looked like a hood flipped over his head and his face shaded over by the darkness, stepped out and took a step towards him. The boy flinched, raising his fists instinctively.

"Whoa, whoa," The man put his hands up defensively, flipping his hood down to reveal dual-colored, blond-ish and brown hair. He looked a bit concerned. "I'm not going to hurt you, calm down." He said.

"Who a-are you?" The boy asked, still shivering from the cold.

"The name's Jean." He rushed out hurriedly, pulling an old, olive-colored army jacket off of his shoulders and onto the other boy, "Jean Kirschtein."

"Marco Bodt." The boy replied, taking the jacket, which was a tad big on him. It smelled nice. Kind of musty, you could say. He couldn't quite describe it, but he liked it.

"You're going to catch a cold or something if you stand out here like this." Jean zipped up the light jacket he'd been wearing underneath the one he'd given up. "I'll give you a ride home, if you want."

Marco paused. He'd been warned about strangers, but this one didn't seem all too bad. He seemed to be around his age, as well. Besides, it's not like he had any other choice. The brunet sighed, resolving to search for the dog tomorrow.

"Yeah, sure." He nodded, after a moment. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Jean smirked opening the passenger's side door for the other and getting back in on his side. He adjusted the fingerless glove he wore on his left hand, closed the door, and buckled his seatbelt.

Marco froze after fixing his seatbelt. This car didn't smell like the jacket, like Jean, as he expected it to. It kind of smelled like…

Dog. A wet dog.

Turning around, he saw Polo, the Labrador he'd been attempting to chase all afternoon, staring back at him, his tongue lolling out of his mouth stupidly.

"Polo!" He shouted, happily, patting the soggy canine on the head.

"He belong to you, then?" Jean asked him. Marco shook his head.

"I was walking him for someone in this neighborhood," he explained, "And he got away." He looked down. "I've been chasing him all day."

"Ah." Jean nodded.

"Where did you find him?" Marco asked, tugging the oversized army jacket over his shoulders again.

"Almost hit him when I was driving through here." Jean shrugged, his eyes focused on the road through the blurry downpour. "Got lost on my way to my apartment, stopped when I saw him. I couldn't just leave the thing out on the road in the rain, so I got out and brought him with me."

Marco listened, smiling warmly. "That was nice of you, Jean." He said.

Jean blinked, glancing at the shorter male for a moment, before turning his eyes back on the road.

"Tch," he mumbled to himself, "It was nothing…" He suddenly turned his head back slightly to the side. "Wait, you said your name was Marco, right?" He asked.

Marco nodded.

"And the dog," Jean gestured offhandedly towards the Labrador, "That guy's name is Polo?"

Marco nodded again. Jean let out a small chuckle, at which the other rolled his eyes. It was kind of funny when you thought about it for a moment, really. 'Marco Polo'? That sure was coincidental.

"Whatever…" Marco couldn't help but smile himself for a while. "Hey, did you say that you got lost on the way to your apartment?" He tilted his head inquisitively.

"Yeah," Jean admitted, "I've never been there before, and it looks like I'm kinda late."

"Late?" Marco asked.

"Uh-huh." The male with two hair colors sighed. "I transferred colleges this year from another area for my second year," he clarified, "And I was supposed to get here about a month or so ago. I'd bet that my roommate already has, but I don't exactly know him yet."

He fished out a folded sticky note from his pocket, with nearly illegible scribbles written on the front.

"Here's the address for it, if it looks familiar or something." He said.

Marco studied the paper; it was the same building he'd been staying at. "What floor were you assigned?" He inquired. "If you don't mind my asking, that is."

"Eighth floor." Jean responded, after thinking for a moment. "Five-hundred-eighteen, letter 'D'."

Processing his response for a moment, Marco's suspicions were confirmed. He smiled easily for a moment, unaware of why this made him so happy.

"Oh, you've met your roommate already." He tapped Jean on the shoulder, who then raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?" He asked, confused.

"That's my room as well!" Marco beamed, light brown eyes glittering slightly in the headlights of other cars passing by on the intersection.

Jean nodded, questioning the strange, not quite unpleasant feeling rising in his chest. What it was, he couldn't quite say, but there was plenty of time to brood over that once they'd gotten indoors. Besides, it was still pouring outside.

"Wow," He simply said, refusing to let his voice rise, "That's pretty coincidental, actually. Kind of funny." He threw a small smile towards the other.

"Oh!" Marco blinked for a second before looking back at Jean. "I forgot to say thank you. For finding Polo, I mean."

"No problem." Jean said, pulling into the parking lot of the apartment building and stopping the engine on his truck.

He unbuckled himself, twisting around towards the back and sifting through the items on the floor. It wasn't too messy, but there was a fair amount of objects littering the ground; a box of tools, a couple of bags, a notebook or two. And, of course, the slobbering Labrador in the backseat.

"Ah, damn…" He cursed under his breath, turning back towards the other, taking a moment to pet the dog's head briefly. "I don't have an umbrella or anything, sorry…" He thought for a moment. "You can just use the jacket I gave you, and try to run, I guess." He suggested.

"But don't you need help getting your stuff into the building?" Marco asked.

Jean pulled two bags, a reasonably sized one that wasn't all too heavy, and a canvas material knapsack that was the same color as his army coat.

"I think I'll be fine." He smirked.

"Is that really all you brought?" Marco questioned him, becoming concerned. "Don't you need more than that to, you know, sustain life?"

"Nah," Jean waved a hand, "All I needed was clothes, money, and a toothbrush and stuff." He pocketed the keys to his car. "Besides, I don't own that much in the first place."

Marco nodded hesitantly, watching as Jean shouldered his bag and lifted the other one with his free arm. The shorter boy pulled Polo by his leash outside, grateful that the building allowed animals. Getting out of the car, they both jogged into the building, relieved with the warmth of the indoors in contrast with the bitter could outside. Marco handed the dog off to a woman by the other side of the desk, where there was a side room for all of the pets that belonged to the owners that couldn't keep them in their rooms. Polo jumped about happily as Marco pat his head one more time before stepped back and thanking the lady promptly.

Observing Jean speak to the aged man at the front desk, Marco shuffled quietly by the elevator, looking at the other man in the light for the first time. He had thick, ashen-brown colored hair with a darker undercut that ended a little past midway on the back of his neck. His eyes were a piercing light shade of russet, verging into a topaz sort of hue. Though his face did seem to remind him of something, however, he wasn't quite positive what it was. He was wearing a striped brown jacket with what looked like a grey tee underneath it. Sporting loose black jeans and brown military boots that had all been soaked with the rain, you could begin to see a well-built, muscular figure underneath.

"Yo, Marco." Jean walked over towards him, and Marco didn't realize he'd been staring until that moment. He blushed lightly.

"Hm?" He blinked in puzzlement for a moment before looking up at him.

"Don't we need to get into the elevator?" Jean raised an eyebrow, idly using his shoulder to point at the metal contraption behind Marco.

"Oh." The brunet laughed, slightly embarrassed. "Sorry."

He sidestepped, allowing Jean in first before stepping in himself and pressing the button to get to the eighth floor. With the door closed, he began to tap his foot distractedly.

"So, Marco," Jean began speaking, "How old are you?"

"Eighteen." Marco smiled. "I'm a first year. What about you?"

"Nineteen." Jean replied. "I'm a second year, like I said before."

That was reasonable. Jean had barely more than an inch over Marco, regarding height.

The elevator suddenly made a 'ding' noise, and the doors slid open to a long hallway with multiple doors on either side. Getting out first, Marco led the way to the room with Jean following close behind. Soon enough, they arrived at the second door from the end of the hallway, entering the room, and flicking on the lights.

The room wasn't something that you could quite call luxurious, but it was inhabitable. The floors were all carpeted, save for the bathroom and the kitchen, with a beige color, and the walls were a deep shade of auburn. There was a small television and a table in the corner of the room next to a couple of padded chairs. Next to the television, there were two moderately sized dressers. There were only two small beds, both with white sheets and a thick, white quilt over the top. The only difference was that one had a backpack on top of it while the other was left untouched. The bathroom was relatively clean, with a small shower and sink, a mirror, and two cupboards flanking both sides of the counter.

"Hm." Jean nodded in approval, setting his two bags on the unused bed and collapsing tiredly.

"You can put your clothes and stuff in that dresser." Marco pointed to the one on the right side of the television, across from Jean's bed and nearest to the bathroom, which was also nearest to the apartment's door. "There's actually a small kitchen that leads through the other side of the bathroom."

"Really?" Jean asked. "That's a weird place to put a kitchen."

"Yeah, I know," Marco laughed lightheartedly, "But it's not a bad room, once you get used to it."

Jean shrugged again, glancing across the room at the shorter teen.

"You should probably take a shower first." He suggested, standing up to peel off his own wet jacket. "You've been out in the rain longer."

Opening his mouth to protest, as he felt that Jean was new and should get first call, Marco felt a shiver run through his body, and decided that Jean was probably right. "Yeah, okay." He mumbled, opening the closet door beside the bathroom and removing his shoes. He placed the borrowed jacket on top of his own bed and shuffled into the restroom.

"… Cute…" Jean said to himself once he was certain that Marco had disappeared into the next room.

He heard the water go on, and decided to take off his own shirt and shoes before they starting chaffing his skin. Folding the slightly damp clothes and placing them on top of his bag, he turned the heater up slightly and laid himself down on the bed in only his boxers. He could put on clothes when Marco came out.

A devious smirk crossed his lips.

Or maybe not.

Folding his arms behind his head, he sighed and looked up at the ceiling. The popcorn-texture somehow reminded him of the stars in the sky back where he used to live with his family. Or, just his aunt, that is. His mother had died not too long after he was born, and his father had died in a bar fight when he was around the age of six or seven. At least, that's what his aunt had told him. His aunt was a tailor, but she had an old friend that worked on a farm. Jean went over there a lot, but mostly because of the horses. He'd learned to ride when he was eight, and it just became something that he did a lot from then on.

He remembered that always liked to lie down near the stables and look up at the stars. Even though he didn't exactly know all of the constellations by name, or any of them for that matter, he still enjoyed stargazing.

Jean then decided to think about Marco.

He'd said that he was a year younger than him. And, for the most part, he looked like it, too. He was a rather tanned boy, with a lean build that wasn't too thin but wasn't too muscular at the same time. Their eyes were almost the same color, though Marco's seemed to be softer. Kinder, in a sense. And his freckles, Jean noted, were quite adorable. Not that he'd say anything like that aloud, of course. They kind of reminded him of the night sky that he used to love so much back home. Like his entire face was the night sky, and he could just look at it forever if he wanted to.

He shook his head absently.

They'd only just met, after all. It was too early to be thinking that kind of thing. His aunt may have been one to spew nonsense about 'love at first sight' and all of that shit, but not Jean. Jean was a tough guy. Or, at least, he liked to make people think of him as one. He had to admit, after people had known him for a while, they always tend to realize that he's a basically 'all bark no bite' kind of person. But he was an honest guy, in the end.

Just then, the bathroom door opened, letting a hazy puff of steam out into the room. Marco emerged from the doorway in a black pair of shorts and a blue shirt, ruffling his hair with a small towel.

"Shower's open, Jea-!" He paused, blushing. "Jean…"

"Huh?" Jean glimpsed back up at him and chuckled at his reaction. "Ah, thanks."

He walked past the other, stepping into the shower himself, leaving a pink-faced Marco standing out in the middle of the room. The water started running.

"It's just another guy, Marco…" The brunet said to himself, continuing to dry his hair while willing his blush to go away. "It's not like it should be embarrassing or anything…"

Marco sighed, walking over to his bed and landing on it with a light 'thump'. He pulled his cell phone out from his bag, plugging it into a charger on the wall next to him. It glowed slowly to life as it notified him that he had a voicemail. It was from the old woman whose dog he'd walked that day. He listened to the short recording for a moment.

"_Hello, dearie,"_ It said, static rushing through the speakers, _"It was raining pretty badly and I wanted to see if you and Polo were alright. I'm sorry for sticking you with him in this weather, but could you just bring him back tomorrow? I don't want you running back here in the rain._" The recording paused for a brief moment. _"Just stay safe, dearie. And don't catch a cold! I'll be sure to pay you extra tomorrow._"

The voicemail ended.

Sitting upright, Marco decided against calling her back right then, as it was already relatively late, and he didn't want to risk waking her up. He'd call tomorrow, as it was Friday night and he didn't have class for another two days. Gently tossing his phone to the side, he spread himself out on the bed, only barely noticing Jean's jacket underneath his head.

Picking it up, he couldn't help but take a moment to sniff at it again, pausing to inhale the pleasant scent that it gave off. Was it grass that it reminded him of? No. Marco smelled it again, deeply. A fireplace? No. He did it again. And again. And again. He repeated himself, pressing the fabric against his face in attempt to determine precisely what it smelled like.

Just then, the shower door opened, and Jean stepped out, clad only in a white towel around his waist. To his amusement, Marco didn't even notice. He just went right along hugging the jacket tightly.

Jean padded over towards the younger teen, poking his shoulder. Marco jolted, dropping the jacket in his lap with a surprised squeak.

"Having fun there?" Jean asked, amused.

"I wasn't-! It's not what-!" Marco stuttered, blushing profusely. "Uh…"

"It's fine," Jean chuckled to himself, running a hand through his dripping hair. "You should keep that for a while. Just give it back later."

Marco's blush deepened, not getting any better when he noticed that Jean wasn't wearing anything but the towel. He could feel the older man's joking smile, his indolent gaze just staring right at him.

Jean turned on his heel, finding suitable nightclothes and walking back into the bathroom to rid himself of the towel. He emerged just a second later, shirtless, tugging a pair of sweatpants on over his boxers. His hair was still damp.

"Can't find my damn shirt…" He mumbled under his breath. In all honesty, he didn't really feel like looking for it either. "Eh." He shrugged, falling lazily back onto the bed and placing his bags on the floor next to it.

Marco yawned from the other side of the room, stretching his arms out tiredly and attempting to hide his faint blush from the other man.

"I think I'm going to bed now." He informed Jean, who nodded in response.

"Same." He said, turning over and reaching out a bare arm to flick out the lights. A blurred stream of moonlight filtered in from between the shades of the window.

"Mhm," Marco hummed, "Goodnight, Jean." He smiled.

"G'night, Marco."

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**A/N: The next installment should be posted as soon as I can finish it up. All reviews are greatly appreciated and encouraged. Thank you.**


	2. Chapter 2

"Thanks for picking me up from all the way over here on a Saturday morning, Jean."

Marco tugged the passenger side door closed carefully, smiling kindly at the man with two-toned hair. He pushed a small backpack onto the floor beneath his feet, hearing it land with a quiet noise before buckling himself into the seat.

"S'Fine…" Jean replied nonchalantly, one hand firmly gripping the steering wheel and the other stifling a yawn.

Only a couple of months had passed since the two of them had first met, but to the both of them, it had felt like they had already known each other for years. Since Marco had never traveled much and hadn't felt the need to get a driver's license, Jean was the chauffer. Basically all of their classes allowed the older male to drive the other where he needed to be before heading off to his own class, and enough time in between to pick the other up before heading back to their shared apartment. So far, they had repeated it so much that it had become a basic routine.

"No, still," Marco shrugged sheepishly, "I shouldn't have woken you just to pick me up from my stupid tutoring session."

"Nah, nah, it's fine, really." Jean waved his hand absentmindedly. "I couldn't let you walk back after teaching those kids for an hour."

"They're not really 'kids' when they're all my age…" Marco mumbled quietly, "But yeah, I guess, thanks, again, and stuff…" He trailed off.

"Mhm." Jean murmured again, pulling forward and cruising back out of the parking area.

He didn't exactly mind driving the other around, even if it meant waking up early on weekends. Well, actually, it wasn't really that early. It was around noon, but considering Jean's sleeping habits, it may have well been an ungodly hour of the morning all the same. Sometimes, he wondered how Marco could be so painfully caring as to get up every other weekend just to tutor other failing students.

"While we're out," Jean remarked after a moment, "Wanna go grab some coffee, or something?"

"Sure!" Marco beamed happily, light brown eyes twinkling.

Chuckling to himself softly, Jean took a left turn, stopping in front of a small café a block or so away from where he'd picked up Marco. Stepping out of the car, he approached the front door with the other following close behind. He then opened it, hearing the faint 'ding' of the bell, and holding the door for the brunet.

"I hope you know that I'm paying." Jean stated, offhandedly, wallet already in hand.

"I…" Marco began to argue, holding back after a moment while remembering how stubborn the older male could be when it came to these kinds of things. "Yeah, okay. Thank you."

They ordered quickly, not chatting very much with the disinterested-looking woman at the counter. Sitting quietly in a small booth in the corner of the building, they waited.

"Hey, Marco?" Jean grinned, aiming a poorly made paper football at the other. It was obvious that he wasn't very skilled in the art of folding cheap, recycled-material napkins.

"Hm?" Turning his head slightly, his forehead was met with a small, flicking force.

"Aw, yes," Jean fist-pumped the air, "Goal."

Marco rubbed his forehead and pulled a face. "That wasn't very nice, Jean…" He pouted, balling up a small corner of the torn napkin underneath the table.

"Sorry…" He looked down at the table guiltily for a moment, then jolted quietly at the feeling of a small flick to the forehead as well. The paper-ball landed on the table with a light tap.

"Hey," Jean began, slightly startled, "Did you just-?"

"Here's your coffee, or whatever." The brown-haired woman from the front of the shop walked over to them, placing their drinks uncaringly in front of them before leaving as quickly as she'd come. Marco mumbled small thanks as she turned on her heel.

"Nope!" Marco giggled. "Now hurry up and drink before it gets cold!"

"It literally _just_ got here; it's not going to get-!"

"Shhh!" Marco laughed again, cutting Jean's sentence off and pushing his steaming coffee cup towards him. Rolling his eyes, the male with dual-colored hair took it in one hand and smiled to himself.

"You're a child." He scoffed.

"Like you're any better?" Marco retorted, blowing on his drink carefully. "If anything, _you're_ the immature one here."

"Yeah, yeah," Jean rolled his eyes, not pressing any further. He thought of all the pointless fights he'd gotten into with too many different people, especially the Jaeger boy, and opted to leave it alone.

Suddenly, there was a loud vibration on the side of the table, muffled with the bustling sound of the coffee shop, as the time was nearing the second rush hour in the café. Jean tilted his head to the side and caught a glimpse of Marco's cell-phone going off. Marco pressed a few buttons and sent an unfocused glimpse towards the screen.

"It's Connie." He mumbled. "He said that Eren broke his arm last night and can't make it to the party later today."

Jean would be lying if he said that he'd remembered about the little celebration they were throwing. A group of their friends had organized a small surprise party in one of the other dormitories for Armin, who was a close friend of Eren's. Since summer had passed, and November was already present, they'd decided to have the celebration on his exact birthday. Armin was a soft-spoken kind of kid, definitely smarter than the rest of them, and though it appeared like it, he was stronger than you'd think he was.

"Oh?" The taller male took a sip of his drink. "How'd the idiot manage to pull that one off?"

"Uh…" Marco hummed quietly for a moment, ignoring the insult to the other German teen and scanning over his phone again. "Connie said he was… he was fencing?" He hesitated for a moment before squinting slightly. "He was fencing with his coach, some guy named Levi, I think it says, and they both got a little intense together, or something." He stopped. "Don't we know a guy named Levi? I think it's the same one…"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure we've seen him around before." Jean thought for a second. "I didn't know Jaeger was into stuff like that." He commented, pausing for a moment before adding a devious smirk. "And I didn't know he liked fencing, either." He lifted his drink to his lips to stifle a chuckle.

"J-Jean!?" Marco spluttered, face slightly reddening.

"Relax, relax," The older male laughed, "I was only kidding. Well, for the most part, anyway."

"Yeah, okay…" The freckled teen finished off the rest of his coffee and sent a quick reply to Connie before pocketing his phone and tugging his scarf tighter around his neck. He took both of the empty cups to the garbage can and led Jean out the doorway.

They passed by a short, cheerful blond girl on the way out, almost bumping into her. With Marco's standard frantic apologies, they exited, catching a glimpse of the bubbly female interacting happily with the brunette attending the counter. The mood in the shop seemed to lift, and they were grateful that they managed to get out before they were caught in the heavy crowd. The younger boy nearly got swept away by the dense mass of people, mostly other college students, but not before Jean could intertwine their fingers and pull him out towards his car. A faint pink blush illuminated the tan skin behind the others freckles as they entered the vehicle.

"Damn," Jean started the car, locking the doors, and activating the windshield-wipers, "Looks like it's starting to come down…"

Marco peered out the window, his breath fogging the glass at the corners of his lips pulled upwards. "That's not rain, Jean," he beamed, "It's snow!"

"Snow?" The teen with the two-toned hair raised an eyebrow and pulled out, wrapping his arm around the back of the passenger's seat to turn his head and survey the lot. "Huh. I didn't think it'd be coming this early in the year."

"We should totally build a snowman!" Marco laughed, smiling excitedly.

"If there's enough tomorrow, then why not?" Jean nodded, retracting his arm and cruising out towards the apartment complex, a nonchalant grin resting on his features. He could be so childish sometimes, but it was really endearing when you thought about it. A small frown tugged at his lips involuntarily as he watched the speed of the snowfall pick up. "Or we could just stay inside and play videogames or something."

"Huh?" Marco furrowed his eyebrows. "Do you not like snow?"

"Eh, well," Jean waved a hand absently, keeping his eyes on the road, "Can't say that I love it."

"That's okay, too," The freckled boy replied, "I think I brought some hot chocolate back from home. We don't have class tomorrow, so we can stay up late. And at this rate…" he paused momentarily, "I'm not so sure we'll have school on Monday, either."

"Alright, then." The older teen gave a small smile.

Soon enough, they pulled into the parking area of the apartment. A thin layer of powdery, white snow caked the ground, and it was only half past one in the evening. They both exited the truck, Jean becoming rather skeptical of getting his car buried with snow, and so parking further in the shade beneath a few trees on the side of the building.

"So, uh," Marco began as they entered the elevator, "Thanks for the coffee, and stuff."

"Don't mention it; it's really not a problem." Jean shrugged, ears tinted a light pink.

They walked out of the metal contraption, stepping down the hall and back into their room.

"I feel like you're spoiling me." Marco giggled sheepishly, blushing just the smallest bit, and rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. He turned to draw open the curtains, watching as the flurry continued to fall.

"Maybe that's my goal." Jean chuckled back, falling back into one of the small couches and folding his hands behind his head. "Did 'ya ever consider that, Marco?"

Marco's face reddened, grinning like a child who's mother had decided to embarrass him in the middle of his fourth grade classroom. "Uh, I guess I didn't…" He stuttered.

"Well then, you should be more open-minded, my amigo!" Jean waved his arms in the air, his tone dripping with humour.

"Your 'amigo'?" Marco asked, laughing.

"I'm never saying that again, but," Jean titled his head and stretched an arm over the side of the seat, "You get the gist of it."

"I dunno, you may have to repeat yourself." The younger teen raised his eyebrows and stood in front of him.

"Repeat myself my ass." The teen with the weird hair rolled his eyes, leaning forward slightly to smack the other on the arm.

"Wow, rude." Marco pouted, whacking him back on the knee.

"You wanna go there?" Jean leaned forward further, nudging the freckled male in the chest with a finger accusingly. "Because you _know_ I will go there."

"Surrender is not an option!" Marco replied, hitting Jean on the shoulder.

Jean slapped him on the forearm.

Marco smacked him back.

And Jean hit him back.

And Marco returned it.

And Jean did it again.

And again.

And again.

And they both continued their little hissy fight before Jean slid forward, his foot, which had been firmly pushed onto the floor to support his weight, shooting out from underneath him. It caught Marco's leg, his foot turning and catching the back of his knee. Suddenly, Marco's legs gave out, sending his toppling forward and straight into Jean's lap, hands out around the older teen's neck. Without a single warning, they both fell backwards, the chair falling backwards and pushing their mouths together accidentally.

They both froze solid, faces a burning shade of red, their lips still touching.

Marco snapped his head back after a long moment and hovered a mere inch above the other, the blush on his face growing hotter by the second.

"Uh…" Their eyes both widened, the air growing hot and burning with a thick atmosphere of tension that could only be considered sexual.

"I- uh… s-sorry…" Marco blinked, stuttering quietly, beginning to move off to the side.

They both sat up on the floor, not meeting each other's gaze.

"S'Fine…" Jean scratched the back of his neck.

The two teenagers let the awkward silence wash over them for a moment, a single though drifting through both of their minds.

_Damn._


End file.
